Calhoun School - Ink Pot Yearbook (New York, NY)

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ink pot diplomacy 9 U B UT I Tell you I won'T go To any American Ambassador's house. WhaT The devil do you wanT me To go There Tor, anyhow? Darling, I know all abouT iT, Mrs. STone Tried To reason wiTh her husband. BuT aTTer all, Donna is one oT my Triends and she did accepT The inviTaTion Tor us. IT would be very rude noT To aTTend The Tea now. All righT, I'II go: buT you'II admiT ThaT They'll all probably be sTuTFy as can be. l came on The Trip To geT away Trom socieTy and Those darn social gaTherings, and whaT do I bump inTo? An Ambassador's Tea. Am I righT? GeTTing no response Trom his wife who, used To his sTubbornness, was enioying The Mexican scenery, he Turned To The congenial elderly genTIeman who had saT opposiTe him Tor The pasT Tew meals and who had been lisTening To him wiTh an amused look. Well, am I? The genTleman was, however, spared The Trouble oT answering by The conducTor who came To The dining car To announce Their ap roaching arrival aT Mexico CiTy. The passengers bound Tor ThaT ciTy, including The 5Tones and The congenial genTIeman, rushed To Their respecTive cars To geT ready To clebark. NexT aTTernoon Jerry STone was looking around desperaTely To Tind someone in The greaT room who mighT be inTeresTing. JusT as he was deciding ThaT all The people aT The Tea were sTuTFy, he spoTTed his breakTasT companion oT The previous day. ATTer a hearTy greeTing Jerry sTarTed Talking in conTidenTial Tones. For Heaven's sake, The people here are sTuTTy. Am I glad To see you! Thank goodness I haven'T had The pleasure oT meeTing The Ambassador yeT. I-le musT be- Jerry was inTerrupTed by his hosT's secreTary who, coming up To The liTTle old man, said, Pardon me, Ambassador, buT ou are wanTed aT The Telephone. The Ambassador excused himselT wiTh a smile. Jerry's rnouTh was wide open. ANNE FRANKENTHALER, '39, une declaration d'amour Le premier iour que ie T'ai vu Dans le iardin, sous le pommier, Tu eTais debouT. Tu regardais I'herbe, les arbres, les Tleurs, J'aurai pu Te regarder pendanT des heures. Crois-moi, serieusemenT, ie T'aime. Mon coeur s'ouvre a Toi: Tu es mon premier Tu seras mon seul amour ET ie T'aimerai Touiours. RUTH J. I-IERSKOVITS, '37, paths They walked The road TogeTher, I-Ie smiled To Think, Though a Tear Trickled down The old man and The child, OT The handsome man in his prime, And as The bo looked inTo his eyes, Who lay buried under The cold, hard earThg Behold-The olld man smiled! I'low his liTe was sTolen by Time. The smile was noT oT ioy, he knew, His TaTher, This dear chiId's TaTher, And yeT he was noT sadg Whose place he now musT Till, He smiled To Think oT his own boyhood, Ancl TeIT iT his duTy To walk wiTh The child, And The paThs he walked wiTh his dad. The old paThs sTiII. ELISE ELISBERG, '4I. TorTy-Th ree

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ink pot the complications of reducing THERE he sfood, scowling af himself in fhe mirror, as fhe blood frickled slowly down his cheek and below his ear. Shame on you! You shave like a high school boyl Mr. Warner grinned down sheepishly af his young daughfer and blurfed ouf. Well, Bess, l was hurrying. Don'l' like fo keep your mofher waifing. Hey, nof so much powder! Therel Thaf's ENOUGH! and Elizabefh Warner, beffer known as Bess, smiled al' 'her fafher's be-powdered face. I bef you'll be more popular fhan fhe groom fo- ni f. g He will be, wifh me, and Mrs. Warner looked af her husband for a full minufe, as she so offen did now. l fold you l could do if and, by golly, l did! said her husband, as he furned fo appraise himself in fhe mirror. He wore a robe several sizes foo large and if was almosf unbelievable fhaf, six shorf monfhs ago, he had iusf managed fo buffon 'lhaf same robe. Oh, l've reduced for my healfh, he would say and fhaf was frue, buf fhen, when you fhoughf of Connie Warner, you wondered. He wanfed her fo be nof only proud. buf able fo brag a liffle abouf him. Now Mr. Warner sighed, wifh an l carried fhrough fo complefion air. Would he nof have fun fonighf, he fhoughf, wifh Connie? Why had he nof done fhis years ago? Why . . . Connie! H' was a groaning S. O. S. and Mr. Warner sfood holding a pair of panfs af leasf eighf sizes foo big for him. The failor, he senf 'rhe wrong suif! These panfs don'f fifl he repeafed, as if frying fo convince himself fhaf somefhing had gone askew. Then he realized whaf had happened. Quick anger overwhelmed him and he spoke hoarsely, fensely. Now don'+ gef exci+ed, caufioned Mrs. Warner. Oh. how could such a fhing happen and affer she had falked everyone deaf abouf Charlie's grand new physique? Oh, why had she noi' made him buy a Tuxedo insfead of renfing one? Buf he had in- sisfed, chiding her, wifh l'll gef so much fhinner. l'll be downrighf handsome, yef. As if he were nof handsomeienough for her now! l'll make him pay for fhisl sformed Mr. W. l'll have my lawyers sue him for all he's worfhl He'll feel sorry for his carelessness. This darn suif would have fiffed me six nnonfhs ago, before l gof some sense and reduced. Before-- Connie Warner abrupfly sfopped her pacing and slowly re eafed, Big enough- six monfhs ago-six-Charlie! She seemed elecfrified. lnfo ClTarlie's closef she dove and came our friumphanfly, holding a Tuxedo-draped hanger on which one could read, Clofhes fo hire for all occasions. Don'l' you see? she fairly squealed wifh icy l'he suif you iusf had on was your own old one. This one here, and she unceremoniously flung if af him, is fhe one you renfedl As Mr. and Mrs. Warner enfered fhe vesfibule of fhe church, a solemn voice was saying, and do you promise fo love, cherish and obey, fill deafh do you par+? Mr. Warner squeezed his wife's hand as if resfed on his Tuxedo-sleeved arm. LILLIAN FICHTENHOLTZ, '39, autumn leaves The sunbeams rushing pasf painfed fhem wifh blushes. VIRGINIA OPPENHEIMER, '39, fo rfy-fwo

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ink pot what i think of war WHEN I Think how foolish men are, in wanTing To fighT each oTher, shed each oTher's blood and kill each oTher, I wonder if These are The same men who have creafed such masferpieces, invenfed such wonders as The Telephone, radio, Telegraph. phonograph, cable, airplane and auTomobile, all works of man's achievemenT. IT seems incredible ThaT men who have creaTed such wonders ever wanT To kill each oTher, To go back To primiTive Times when man was no more Than a roaming animal and had To Tighr The wild beasTs if he wanTed To live. In Europe Toda , The counTries are re-arming and Training Their children in ways of warfare. Think of! The horrors of The IasT war! How many people were killed, how much money losT, how many people influenced by The slaughTer. We all know of people who have Iosf Their sighT, Their hearing, an arm or a leg, who have received shell shock and are now suffering invalids due To The lasT war. When vou Think of war you Think of men fighTing in The Trenches, being killed. killing. This isn'T all. There are educaTed men who, more Than The soldiers, work for war. There are scienTisTs. all over The world, who now are searching for more deadly poisons To desTroy oTher human beings. The rich men who finance wars, The ammuniTion maker, The gun manufacTurer, and The war-plane builder all wanT war. War does no one any good. One counfry may become greedy and wanT more land or more power, buT The lives losT and properTy damaged more Than double The vicTory if There is any. No one wins: everyone loses, wheTher lives, properTy, or money. IT seems absoluTeIy impossible ThaT highly infellecfual men wanT To go backwards and Tigh+ like barbarians. I believe ThaT war is a sTep backward in civilizaTion and in naTions as highly civilized as Those of The world Today, There should be no ThreaT of war. CONSTANCE MEIROWITZ, '39, A P 5 sing sing routine BEING The firsT dressed in my cosTume, waiTing To go on, I sTood in The wings and peeped inTo The audiTorium. In a few minuTes I saw someThing I shall never forgeT. Alfhough I had seen iT in The movies, in real life iT senT shivers up and down my spine. Several hundred grey-garbed men of all ages were shuffling down The aisle. Their pale faces looked as if They were moulded in masks. Blue uniformed guards showed Them To Their seaTs, where They saT quieTly. STanding There, The ThoughT came To me of all The ones who were so dear To Them. To whom They had broughT disgrace and misery. Suddenly The music began To play and a voice called, CurTain. PATSY AUERBACH -41 weathered H E saT wiTh his back To a pile on The wharf, his crisp grey hair framing a face Tanned and lined by his many years of conTacT wiTh The sea. The cord, wiTh which he was mending a fish neT, flashed in and ouT in his long, dexTrous fingers. His eyes were a deep blue which reflecfed The azure of The waves over which his gaze wandered. When any alien sound came To his ear, his eyes darTed abouT inquisiTively. His chin was square and firm, showing an obdurafe personaliTy. He smiled as The IiTTle children, frolicking on The sandy beach, Then Tiring of Their play, came To him for a sTory of his seafaring days. Then, as a IiTTle boy climbed upon his knee, he soffened and Told his sTory in a voice which rang like a bell, mingling pleasanfly wiTh The slap of The waves upon The beach. The gulls circling above seTTIed down in an aTTiTude rivalling ThaT of The children, one denofing inTeresT, pleasure and well-being. SARA PERLISH, '4-0. forTy-four